


Learning to Live Again

by AcesOfSpade



Category: Marvel, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe- Single Parents, Angst, Human Vision (Marvel), Immigration & Emigration, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Teenage Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 20:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11409432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcesOfSpade/pseuds/AcesOfSpade
Summary: For as long as Wanda Lehnsherr can remember, her home country of Sokovia has been at war with Germany. With a German immigrant father, life was pretty rough. It only got worse when Wanda gave birth to twin boys when she was 19, raising them without their father.When the Lehnsherr family finally saves up enough money to immigrate to America in hopes of safety, Wanda's going to have to learn how to adjust to a new lifestyle, all while juggling her new friendship with the son of a prominent fashion designer.---Jonas Pym is the son of a world-renowned fashion designer. He lives in the lap of luxury, but finds time to help immigrants who need a fresh start. The arrival of the Lehnsherr family brings out a new side of Jonas, which involves a secret from his past that nobody knows about.





	1. Wanda

**Author's Note:**

> So, um, hi. If any of you have read one of my other SV multi-chaps, The Prince's Conflict, I'm hoping this one will be similar in the sense that I got it entirely written (11 chapters and an epilogue) in less than 24 hours straight. Excuse any poor quality spelling, as I'm dyslexic and trying my best.
> 
> Also, this is gonna be darker than my usual stuff, but not as dark as my UnionFrost fic (A King's Ransom)

Being a single, barely-adult parent to two little boys had never crossed her mind, yet here she was. 19, with infant twin boys to care for. Their father had been her long-time boyfriend, but the minute she told him she was pregnant, he high tailed it and never came back. That was a year ago. She had to rely on her parents to help her through the pregnancy, as well as her older sister. Her twin was there for her as well, though he didn’t know what to do as much as she did.

 

During the nine months she was pregnant, Wanda Lehnsherr had decided that her ex didn’t deserve to know his sons. He wasn’t willing to be there for them, so she wouldn’t let him see them. Helmut Zemo seemed to be a nice guy, but evidently he had commitment issues of some kind. Sure, they had been together since they were 17, but apparently the idea of raising children scared him into running. Whatever, Wanda had come to accept that they clearly weren’t meant for each other. She’d find someone some day that would love her and the twins, she just knew it.

 

Wanda worked part-time at a local coffee shop, trying to get enough money to leave Sokovia with the twins and her family. It had been a dream since Wanda found out she was pregnant, as she believed Sokovia at that time was no place to be raising children. The entire family was pitching in as much as they could in hopes of saving up what they needed to properly immigrate to America. They had heard that America was the ‘land of dreams’, which made them think it would be much better than borderline-war torn Sokovia.

 

At the coffee shop, Wanda often worked the midnight shift so she could spend the days with her boys. Midnight at a coffee shop in Sokovia was a terrible time and place to be, as there was a large population of bar hoppers that would come in for coffee to cure their hangovers starting around 3:30 in the morning. Wanda had been hit on, threatened, groped, yelled at, and any other awful thing you could think someone would do to a barista when drunk. One patron dumped his entire coffee onto her chest because she ‘put in too much air’ in the cup. She returned home with second degree burns, which put her out of commission for two weeks while they healed.

 

During those two weeks, Wanda and her older sister Anya sat down to go through their current savings to see how much more they needed. Pietro, their brother, had offered to watch the twins while they did, so there wouldn’t be any crying to disrupt them.

 

The kitchen table was covered in papers, pencils, erasers, and a notebook as Wanda and Anya got to work, the dark wood underneath virtually invisible.

 

Wanda tapped her pencil on her upper lip as she read one of the papers, a transcript of their family’s combined savings account. She frowned at one of the transactions, circling it to show Anya.

 

“Where did that come from?” she asked, puzzled. There was a ₽ 60,000 deposit a week before, though there was no record as to who deposited it.

 

“I have no idea,” Anya frowned, scanning the page for any other oddities. “Should we ask Mama and Papa? Or Pietro? It can’t have been from Lorna, she’s too young.” Indeed, Lorna Lehnsherr was barely 16, working a shitty waitress job in hopes of getting tips to put towards getting away from Sokovia.

 

Wanda fell silent for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons of ignoring the fact that the money seemingly came from nowhere. She finally decided that they wouldn’t get enough anyway if they didn’t keep it.

 

“I don’t care where it came from,” she told Anya seriously. “We need this money, Anya.”

 

“I know, Wanda,” Anya sighed, running a hand through her ocean-blue hair. “I feel bad for taking it, but we do need it.”

 

They didn’t say anything else about it after that, going back to figuring out how much they had compared to what they needed.

 

After two solid hours of calculations, Wanda and Anya came to the conclusion that with the mystery money, they had well over enough to finally get out of Sokovia. They shared relieved sighs, collecting up all the paperwork to go show their parents.

 

They found their father, Erik, in his little home office, probably filing more paperwork for the factory he worked at.

 

“Papa?” Wanda called out, knocking on the door frame gently.

 

Erik looked up from his laptop, removing his glasses and gesturing for the girls to enter. “What is it, lieblings?” he asked with creased brows.

 

“We have some excellent news,” Anya smiled, handing Erik the notebook they kept their total savings written down in. “We have enough. At least, for plane fare and the green card process for all eight of us.”

 

A rare smile settled on Erik’s face, lighting up his usually dull green-grey eyes. “Are you certain?” he asked, trying not to sound hopeful as he took the notebook and went over the calculations. His heart skipped a beat when he came across the ₽ 60,000 deposit, deciding he wasn’t going to tell the kids where he and their mother had gotten the money quite yet.

 

“We triple-checked the math,” Wanda nodded certainly. “We can do this, Papa. We can get out of Sokovia while we’re still alive,” she muttered darkly. Sokovia had been on the brink of war within itself and with Erik’s home country of German since Erik was a little boy, and the ever-present fear of death at the hands of the government was crushing. Being a German immigrant, his Sokovian wife, their four children, and two grandchildren, the government didn’t much like you.

 

“This is wonderful,” Erik said, still smiling. He knew someday he’d have to tell them, but for now, they were going to be safe.


	2. Jonas

You’d think the son of a world-famous fashion designer living in the lap of luxury would be a stuck-up asshole, right? Well, you’d be wrong in the case of Jonas Pym. He was the son of acclaimed designer Janet van Dyne and her husband, a bio-engineer named Hank Pym. Jonas was rather humble about his lifestyle, choosing to help others that were struggling financially rather than throwing away his money on stupid things. He’d become the media’s favourite headliner when he was 17 and started a refuge charity for immigrants from war-torn countries that could barely afford to get to America, let alone find a proper house or job. He loved his job, helping thousands of people a year settle into a new home somewhere in America, whether it was Kansas or Washington, or anywhere in between.

 

The media tried to paint Jonas as a liar, shallow, and called his charity a ‘publicity stunt’. He’d learned to ignore it, as he knew it was all false in an attempt to make him look bad. Of course, it was pretty hard to ignore when random reporters shove microphones in his face and shout questions at him. He had a reputation to uphold, so he never acted on his desires to flip off reporters or just generally get angry. He had to keep a calm resolve, or people would harass him and his organization more harshly.

 

On this particular day, Jonas was sitting at a picnic table in a smaller New York park, a new immigrant sitting across from him. She was a young Middle Eastern woman who was engaged to an American man, and she was absolutely terrified that the government back home in Iraq would come for her to punish her for wanting to marry a non-Iraqi man. Jonas had arranged a meeting with her to reassure her that everything would be fine. Her fiance was running a few minutes late, which made her more anxious.

 

When the fiance arrived, the Iraqi woman (Farrah) got up and ran over to him, hugging him tightly. She hadn’t seen him in person in quite some time, and the relief on her face was heartwarming to Jonas. Her fiance, James, looked over at Jonas with a thankful smile. He was scared for Farrah’s safety, but he knew with Jonas’ help they’d be alright.

 

Once the hug broke, the two lovers sat with Jonas to discuss an action plan for Farrah’s green card, as well as making sure James had room for Farrah at his apartment, which he did.

 

An hour later saw Jonas walking home, as he didn’t drive. He’d been in an accident when he was younger that left him severely injured, which cemented his decision to never drive. As he walked, he hummed to himself, minding his own business.

 

Of course, famous people are never allowed to mind their own business. A reporter scurried up to Jonas, tape recorder in hand as she began rapid-fire questioning him.

 

“Mr. Pym, what do you have to say about the rumours of you seducing underage clients?” the reporter asked.

 

That made Jonas freeze in place, blinking rapidly to process what he’d just been asked. “Excuse me?” he replied, almost angrily. “What kind of accusation is that?” he said through gritted teeth.

 

“There’s people that think you seduce the underage immigrant girls you help because they’re vulnerable,” the reporter told him.

 

“That’s bullshit if I ever heard it,” Jonas said flatly, his normally friendly brown eyes full of an anger that only his father had ever seen. The reporter, to her credit, only flinched slightly.

 

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” the reporter said, putting her hands up to show compliance. “So I take it you don’t then?” she asked, just for confirmation on tape.

 

“Absolutely not,” Jonas nodded, turning to walk away before he blew up on the reporter. He very rarely got that angry, least of all in public.

 

He returned home in a sour mood, taking off his shoes and searching for his mother. Janet had been home for a few days, having been on an extended tour for her new collection. Jonas found her in the basement, where she kept her mannequins and fabrics and such. She was singing along to the radio as she pinned some fabric to the cork-board she used for colour palettes. When she spotted Jonas, she turned down the radio and smiled.

 

“Jonas, what’s wrong?” she asked when she saw the look in his eyes. She’d never seen him quite this angry, and it frankly scared her. Hank got angry a lot, but never like this.

 

“I was on my way home from another meeting,” Jonas started. “A reporter stopped me. Nothing unusual. That is, until she basically accused me of paedophilia,” he spat.

 

“Excuse me?” Janet blinked in surprise. “She accused you of _what_?” she said angrily. To see Janet angry was a rare sight, one Jonas had never seen before, and it frankly scared him.

 

“She asked if I’d heard the rumours people were spreading about me ‘seducing underage female clients’,” Jonas sighed, running a hand through his red-and-teal hair. “I nearly punched her.”

 

“I would’ve too,” Janet said, trying to get her breathing under control. “I hope she gets fired.”

 

“So do I,” Jonas nodded solemnly.

 

“Here, why don’t you help me pick some colours?” Janet suggested, wanting to change the subject.

 

For the next few hours, Janet and Jonas stayed in the basement, just coming up with colour palette ideas for Janet’s new collection. Jonas couldn’t keep his mind off what the reporter had said though, which bothered him greatly. How do you come back from that kind of accusation? You don’t, honestly. They ruin your career, your life, everything. He hoped to God it wasn’t actually a rumour, and the reporter just wanted to piss him off so she could report about him blowing up at her for no reason. Still, it had been said to him, and it was going to affect his interactions with his clients now.


	3. Wanda

The plane ride was deadly quiet in Wanda’s opinion. No crying babies, not rambunctious children. Just adults in suits, almost certainly returning home from business trips. Then there was Wanda’s family. Her Papa Erik, her Mama Magda, Anya, her twin brother Pietro, Lorna, and Wanda’s sons, Billy and Tommy. As if understanding how serious the situation was, the babies stayed silent the entire time, sleeping soundly.

 

Once the plane landed and the family had gotten off, Erik looked around for the man he was supposed to be meeting. The man ran an organization to help people in the Lehnsherr family’s situation, so Erik had contacted him for advice.

 

Erik spotted the man he was looking for, motioning for his family to follow. Wanda had the twins’ carriers in her hands, while Pietro had his and Wanda’s suitcases. Between Lorna and Anya were the rest of the suitcases, while Magda had their information and such for the man they were meeting.

 

“Erik Lehnsherr, I’d assume?” the man greeted. At first glance, he was rather intimidating yet odd. He wore a casual dark green suit and a gold tie, though his hair was a mix of red and teal. He was handsome, yes, but still odd.

 

“That would be me,” Erik nodded. “This is my wife, Magda, and our children: Anya, Pietro, Wanda, and Lorna.”

 

“I take it the two little ones are the grandchildren you mentioned?” the man wagered, to which Erik nodded. “Thomas and William.”

 

“Nice to meet you all properly,” the man smiled. “My name is Jonas Pym. If you’d follow me, we have a few things to discuss.” With that, he turned to walk, leading the family from the terminal, out of the airport, and towards a riverside park. He located a picnic table large enough for all of them, placing a briefcase on the table and opening it.

 

From there, it was a lengthy talk about living arrangements, legal stuff, all the good things that came with being immigrants. Erik knew what was going to happen, if a little differently. He was still technically a German citizen, despite moving to Sokovia. He was an illegal immigrant in Sokovia, so he was going through all the proper channels to become an American citizen for the sake of his family.

 

When the discussion finished, Jonas stood and told the family he’d show them where they’d be staying until they could find steady jobs and such. They followed him to an apartment complex not far from the park they were just at, using a key to get in.

 

The apartment was on the second floor, though it didn’t take long to get everything up. After all, they had seven suitcases between them and two baby carriers. Once they were somewhat settled in, Jonas bid them a good night and told them he’d be back tomorrow to help with the job hunt.

 

After he left, Erik called a ‘family meeting’ in the living room area, which resulted in the kids sitting on the floor in front of the tiny couch, facing their parents on the couch.

 

“I know it’s hard, moving away from home,” Erik began, “I’ve done it. I got out of Germany, illegally taking residence and work in Sokovia. Not a day goes by that I regret leaving, and I don’t want the four of you to regret leaving Sokovia. We are safe here. No one is trying to kill for the sake of proving a point to another country. It’s hard for the first few months, but it will be worth it, I promise.”

 

Erik very rarely gave these kinds of pep talks, so the children listened intently. Lorna nodded in understanding.

 

“Will I get to go to school?” Lorna asked hopefully. She was the only one who was still school age, though she’d never been to a proper school. Only in the home of retired teachers that were friends of her mother’s. She wanted to know what real school was like, with other students and classrooms.

 

“We will try our best,” Magda nodded. Lorna was a bright young girl, and her parents wanted to see her succeed.

 

Wanda had an odd look on her face, the twins sleeping in her lap. Erik noticed and frowned, looking over to Wanda curiously.

 

“What’s wrong, liebling?” he asked, concerned.

 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to go to work for a while. Maybe not ever,” Wanda muttered, looking down at the twins. “I don’t want to leave them alone with strangers in a strange country. They’re my babies. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if something happened to them.” Her voice had begun to break as she spoke, the stress and uncertainty of the situation finally getting to her.

 

“You won’t have to,” Anya promised. “We can do this, right guys?” she asked the rest of the family, who nodded. “We’ve got your back. We’re your family.”

 

Just then, Tommy started fussing, which set Billy off as well. Wanda sighed softly, carefully picking up the twins and standing so she could bring them somewhere to feed them.

 

While she was gone, Lorna sighed softly. “She can’t do this on her own,” she muttered. “She’s going to need someone to help her. Newborn twins in a new country that she’s had no time to adapt to are going to wear her down.”

 

“I know,” Magda sighed sadly. “I don’t know if she’d accept our help. She’s too much like her father,” she said, side-eyeing his husband.

 

“Maybe we can get her to make a friend,” Pietro suggested. “Maybe the guy who helped us? He seemed nice. I mean, he’s probably pretty busy, but he’s nice enough.”

 

“It can’t seem like we’re trying to force it though,” Anya commented. “It needs to feel natural for her. She doesn’t trust well, remember?”

 

“And for Jonas, we don’t want him to think we’re weirder than he already probably does,” Lorna pointed out.

 

“We’ll figure something out,” Erik sighed, just as Wanda returned with the twins.


End file.
